


Separate but Not Equal

by poplarboundgirl



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poplarboundgirl/pseuds/poplarboundgirl
Summary: Winter 1962.   Patsy and Delia explore what "separate not equal" really means.     A series of CTM fan fiction chapters based on this theme





	1. Deep in Thought

Separate..but not equal…

Chapter 1:  Deep in thought

January 1962

 Ringing in the new year at Nonnatus House had been eerily quiet. The large group of nuns and nurses were enroute to Poplar from their long visit to the mission home in South Africa. Nurses Patsy Mount and Delia Busby, Sisters Monica Joan and Mary Cynthia and the mothers of Poplar had managed to keep things busy enough over the holidays but the absence of Nonnatuns at meals over the last month was felt. The winter snow falling softly on the streets of Poplar dampened the ever-present noise to almost a whisper.

 Patsy and Delia reveled in having more time together than they ever had since their trip to Paris over the summer. It was surreal. In the evenings, Patsy would venture casually down the hall to Delia’s room and not appear again until the next morning at breakfast. No one questioned where she had been. No explanation of “new card games” was ever necessary. Sisters Mary Cynthia and Monica Joan would sometimes join the two in watching of Peeky and Perky in the evenings, but retired early, leaving Patsy and Delia to enjoy snuggling in comfort on the sofa together.

 “Isn’t this nice, Pats?"  Delia asked as she held Patsy’s head in her lap. She stroked Patsy’s red hair softly and massaged her fingers as the television images flickered before them. “Can’t we stay this way forever?” Patsy did not immediately respond. Her mind was whirring back to the uninterrupted luxurious time she and Delia enjoyed in their Parisian flat. It was only a few short months ago, but seemed like a century since they had this precious couple time together.

 In truth, Patsy was mentally counting each day before Trixie, Barbara, Tom, Nurse Crane, Sister Julienne, Sister Winifred and the Turner family would arrive home. Both women reveled in the welcome respite from their daily life of explanation and subterfuge at Nonnatus, but especially Patsy. The redhead was mourning the comfortable and daily intimacy she and Delia had taken for granted while everyone had been away. She was lost in imagining what if they were allowed to stay in their own little cocoon, and didn’t immediately respond when Delia poked her softly and said,  “I’ll be eager to hear what trouble Trixie found in her travels”.   Patsy murmured somewhat sadly, “Deels, we’ll be back to reality soon enough”.

 Delia kissed her softly on the cheek. “Try not be so glum, cariad. It will be fun to hear what they experienced at the Mission Hospital."  Patsy questioned that. She knew the trip was going to be a huge change for the group, far removed from what all of them experienced in Poplar. Patsy’s brutal experiences at the internment camp taught her that the cruel indignities of exclusion leave a lasting scar. She wondered if the completely different lives led by white and black South Africans would even register to their colleagues.

 Patsy brushed her gloomy thoughts aside and returned Delia’s kiss with passion. “Don’t you think it’s well past time for bed?” she asked with a half smirk.

 “You don’t have to ask me twice,"  responded Delia happily.

 Two evenings later, the women were holding each other on the sofa, locked deep in embrace. As usual, the two remaining Sisters had retired early, leaving Patsy and Delia to pursue all of the options the sofa could offer for reclining.

 Suddenly, the front door swung open. Patsy and Delia were unexpectedly greeted by the voice of Nurse Crane loudly bellowing,  “Did anyone think to possibly keep the lights on in the evenings?" “Or is it my imagination that we now reside in a primordial cave at Nonnatus House?”  Nurse Crane’s exclamation was drowned out by the quiet even tones of Sister Julienne and Barbara murmuring about how cold the weather was in Poplar.

 Patsy sprung from Delia’s arms just in time to see Tom and Fred Buckle staggering in with several large trunks, followed by Trixie and Sister Winifred’s voices rising in excitement as they spotted the women.

 “Why you waited up for us!” exclaimed Trixie happily,  “How could you have possibly known we would be back so soon?”

  
  “We didn’t” replied Patsy.

 To be continued...


	2. "What we choose to see and hear"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perspectives following the return from South Africa.

Dinner conversation at Nonnatus House-two evenings post return from South Africa

“So this gorgeous chap stopped by the Mission Hospital and dropped off our supplies”  
Trixie happily started on a drawn out story….

“What is in that salad? I hope it isn’t wilted cabbage. When we were in South Africa we had the most delectable vegetables I’ve ever tasted.”  
Nurse Crane suspiciously eyed the dinner plates

“They didn’t even seem grateful for what we were offering to their children”.  
As if we would come so far on our own account, and they wouldn’t even bother to show up for appointments!”  
Sister Winifred was perturbed

“The people came to the Sunday service, but they simply didn’t understand what I was trying to explain.”  
Reverend Tom Hereward talked to anyone listening

“We had to borrow and ask for everything. I have never seen anything like this in Poplar. Honestly, Delia, I had to hold back tears every day.”  
Barbara whispered to Delia

“We were called. And we answered…not soon enough. We will be back.  
I trust the Lord will keep our South African families safe from harm.”  
Sister Julienne to Sister Mary Cynthia

“Did anyone spy the plate with cake?”  
Sister Monica Joan 

Patsy intently watched the interactions around the table. She contributed little to the conversation, preferring instead to listen to the snippets as they unfolded. After arriving at Nonnatus House, Dr. Turner and his family had quickly departed for their home. They had not been seen over the last couple of days. 

A warm bed, food heaped on platters, Delia covertly holding her hand under the table, Patsy was thinking about how much she took for granted. She had begun to share with Delia (albeit very slowly), the story of her internment camp experience just as the group returned from South Africa. 

While she was glad all had arrived home safely, Patsy knew the moments for discussion and togetherness with “her Delia” would be rationed, to say the least. No one knew just how their couple time played out during the holidays. “Holding down the fort,” Sister Julienne warmly said when she greeted the women. 

“So these unfortunates, they had so many children.” Sister Winifred interrupted Patsy’s reverie, “The South Africans are at their wits end with the villagers and their requests. We did everything we could with the little we had, but THEY didn’t seem to know WHEN to stop asking us and the South African government for medicine and nappies. It grew tiresome. “ She sniffed, “It was though they ignored all we were doing for them.” 

Patsy felt her cheeks getting hot. Delia gripped her arm tightly knowing that Patsy might soon leap across the table at Sister Winifred's provocative comments.  
It wasn’t soon enough. Patsy’s mouth moved before she could “engage her faculties” as Sister Evangelina used to say, 

“What on earth are you saying?” she snapped suddenly across the table to Sister Winifred, who looked startled. “ Is our work only reserved for those we see as suitable?  
Patsy paused to catch her breath. “Sister, what did you expect? Treats for Black South Africans who ASK nicely?”

“Shhh, Patsy,” Delia whispered very softly in her ear, “Darling, I think you’ve made your point.” Patsy was completely red faced and enraged. 

“That’s enough, Nurse Mount” Sister Julienne broke into the conversation. 

Nurse Crane looked sadly over the plate of wilted cabbage and said gently, “Ah, Nurse Mount, you indeed have a pulse on the situation. It is complete hell, excuse me, Sister, for villagers we saw at the Mission Hospital. We only were a stopper in the drain as it were. The South African government seems to prize the opportunity to make their lives as difficult as possible. I wish we could have done more. You and Nurse Busby would have been a splendid addition to our team.” Nurse Crane gazed knowingly at Patsy, hoping her remark would defuse the increasingly tense conversation. 

Patsy did not respond to Nurse Crane’s subtle entreaty. Her thoughts raced back to the internment camp of her youth. Memories flooded her head; watching guards savagely beat her mother for requesting rice to feed her sister, camp mates falling to the ground, seeing the deprivation around her and hearing promises that never materialized. 

Patsy snapped quickly back to the conversation at hand. “Sister, the villagers’ lot is to bend and scrape and only plead for what they absolutely need. You can understand that simple fact, can’t you? Or is our job, per your narrow... misinterpretation…. to maintain order? ” Patsy challenged the table with her eyes angrily fixed on Sister Winifred. “Perhaps I see their situation entirely differently? she asked sarcastically. “I certainly hope and pray that I do!” Sister Winifred pursed her lips and remained silent. 

“NURSE MOUNT!” Sister Julienne said in a high and strained voice. “That is more than enough. Please stop at once!” Sister Monica Joan and Sister Mary Cynthia stared across the table at Patsy. This was a side of Nurse Patience Mount they had not seen recently. Sister Winifred looked down at the tablecloth, chastened. Reverend Hereward gazed thoughtfully on a wallpaper stain above Barbara’s head. Barbara felt ill. Her head and shoulders throbbed painfully. She didn’t know if she should get up from the table or stay to see what happened next. 

“I’ll excuse myself, Sister,” Patsy replied grimly, “I’m quite finished.” She threw her napkin on the table, scraped her chair back and ran from the table. Trixie got up quickly, followed by Delia at her side. “Sweetie, I’ll talk to her. ” said Trixie “ No, we both will” Delia responded firmly. She led Nurse Franklin out of the room by her arm and they walked upstairs. The table became still. 

Sister Julienne sighed softly. She knew the transition from South Africa to Poplar was going to be profound for her beloved Nonnatus family. She wasn’t sure when the fault lines of interpretation were to be breached, but apparently it was sooner than expected. She didn’t fault Nurse Mount for her words. In truth, she agreed with them, but she knew she had to keep communication respectful within their small community. Sister Julienne made a mental note to speak privately to both Nurse Mount and Sister Winifred in the next day. Along with 25 other things that were crowding her schedule. 

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” Sister Monica Joan suddenly interjected, “Friedrich... Friedrich Nietzsche said that. Is that not the case now?” 

Reverend Hereward carefully responded, “Whatever do you mean by that Sister? “

Sister Monica Joan smiled thinly at him. “We only choose to see what we want to see, Reverend. And if I may say so, that goes for our sense of hearing as well. For example, did anyone bother to listen when I first requested the cake plate?” 

Sister Julienne signed again. Welcome home, she tiredly thought. 

To be continued….


	3. Waiting for the World to Change...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy explores her own tensions following return of Nonnatus residents from South Africa Hope Clinic. A run up to Season 6 of CTM!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Separate but not Equal, circa 1962.

Chapter 3: Waiting for the world to change

“Sweetie, are you ok?” 

Trixie and Delia had entered Patsy’s room gingerly, almost expecting a bomb to go off as they literally tiptoed into the bedroom she shared with Trixie. They sat down on the bed alongside Patsy, one on each side of her. 

Patsy sat on her bed moodily. She didn’t answer Trixie immediately. She wondered if anyone understood the points she was trying to make before Sister Julienne put an end to the heated dinner “discussion” she was having with Sister Winifred and the rest of her Nonnatus House colleagues following their dramatic return from South Africa and the Hope Clinic 

In re-examining minute details of her stressful conversation with Sister Winifred, Patsy had a small pang of empathy for the Sister.  
She knew her to be an excellent nurse. South African and Poplar patients were well served under Sister Winifred's watchful eye.  
Incorrect as her utterances at the dinner table were (at least in Patsy’s eyes), she knew the Sister to put other’s needs before her own. 

Patsy was not willing to forgive her, though. At least not yet. And that was what troubled her. 

“I’m fine”, Patsy replied slowly. 

“Sweetie, you are absolutely not fine. Nice try though!” responded Trixie cheerily. 

“I am fine. I was thinking about our dinner conversation tonight and how I can’t utter a simple phrase without putting my foot into it.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t often know what to say when people ask me whether my hair is dyed or not! Brighten, up sad face!”

Patsy cringed. She knew Trixie was trying to cheer her up. 

In her more reflective moments at Nonnatus, Patsy contemplated if Trixie belonged to the lucky few, fortunate people who sailed through life and made light of unhappiness and misery even as it played out in their own mirror. 

Patsy believed wholeheartedly that gaping chasms of opportunity versus oppression had made the world what it was--whether it was in a village in South Africa, Poplar, or an internment camp. She often wondered though, if her colleagues were as troubled by the world's disparities between "have and have-nots". When would the world actually change?

“Dearest Trixie” she thought to herself. “ If you only knew what I feel”. 

Delia broke gently into Patsy’s thoughts. “Cariad, we know you were upset by the dinner conversation. But Sister Winifred was in South Africa, and we weren’t. It isn’t right to draw conclusions based on what you think, rather than her reality. Can you give her the benefit of her own interpretation of the Hope Clinic? We would want the same, you know.” 

She put her small hand tentatively on Patsy’s leg, watching her face for any visible sign of discomfort. While Delia understood Patsy’s position, she often teased Patsy about her own posh experiences, that is, until learning more about Patsy's time in the internment camp.

Patsy gave Delia a cryptic half smile. “All right. I’ll give. My name is Patience, after all.”

Trixie looked at her friend carefully. She felt she knew only the barest of details of Patsy’s life. When Patsy became close to Delia, Trixie realized that the door to knowing Patsy fully had closed to her. But she held out hope that Patsy would  
(with time) open the door again. 

Patsy was the best friend she had had at Nonnatus House. She wasn’t jealous of Delia, well, not too much. Trixie had Barbara to cheer her up, but she dearly missed having her time with Patsy, particularly after the grueling trip to South Africa. She wondered if Patsy even knew how difficult the trip had been for the group. 

Patsy tried to lighten the conversation. “So how many gentlemen friends did you meet in South Africa, Trixie? Less than or more than 25?”

“Well,” Trixie replied thoughtfully. “ It was close to 25-if you count all the orderlies and drivers at the hospital! But only a few of the chaps really spoke to me. Mostly about the day to day activities. I don’t know really what their lives were like.” 

She paused, “Or whether they had girlfriends!” 

Delia grinned at her. “Trixie, I have all faith that you could have charmed a cheetah out of a tree to chat!” 

Trixie said somberly, “I know everyone we met had a challenging life. They tried not to show it, but I saw in a hundred ways. Everyone tried to make the best of it, and not let it consume them or even complain. 

“And Patsy,” Trixie continued, “You should give Sister Winifred some benefit of the doubt. She tried to make sure everyone we saw received appropriate care. Why, Sister Winifred even gave Barbara lots of extra attention at night due to all of her headaches!”

“ What headaches?” Delia asked, “Is that why Barbara was holding her head at the dinner table?”

“ I suspect as much," Trixie responded, 

“She had terrible headaches throughout the trip. Tom wasn’t a lot of help to her. He seemed to be in his own world the entire trip. He paid a lot of attention to the villagers, but almost none to poor Barbara. She gutted it through each day, but wasn’t up for much at night, poor dear. Barbara was on her own, since we were so consumed at the hospital. She was vomiting almost every morning.”

Delia sat up, “Shouldn’t she be seen?” 

Trixie nodded at her. “She doesn’t want to make a bother of herself, and she definitely doesn’t want anyone to contact Dr. Turner.”

Patsy shifted on the bed. 

“Do you think she could be?”she asked hesitantly, not finishing the sentence. 

Delia’s cheeks flushed slightly, a shade of pink that illuminated her freckles and made her blue eyes shine. 

“I hardly think so,” responded Trixie indignantly, finishing Patsy’s thought, "She wasn't even close to Tom on the trip!"

“But before the trip?” Patsy asked more to herself.

Delia murmured softly, “How do you think we can ask her that question, Pats?”

Trixie shot Delia an inscrutable look. “Tom and I were careful when we were together. I hardly think Barbara would do something I wouldn’t do with him!”

Patsy thought a bit. 

“Patience… I’ll divine some way to obtain this information from Barbara. She trusts me. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“The bottom of what, Nurse Mount?” 

Nurse Crane suddenly appeared in the door frame, a frown on her face and her eyes narrowed on Patsy’s. “ Pray tell, what will you get to the bottom of?”

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
